Eduardo and the Year of 1917
by coreggio98
Summary: Eduardo Masen or Edward has just turned 16 and is about to join the army. Although he's two years too young, many boys his age have entered the front lines despite being ineligible. Will Edward survive the deadly war? There's only one way to find out.


**I do not own the Twilight saga or any of it's characters.**

**Enjoy!**

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Yesterday the war didn't scream as it did now. Yesterday the shadows didn't look so clear. Yesterday I was fifteen

My family sat in the basement, moonlight streamed through cracked windows and the smell of dust mingled with beeswax candles. I sucked in breath and blew, smiling as the room went dark. Lisa cheered and giggled quietly, I heard a hand clap over Ella's mouth as the basement turned black. She struggled from dads lap and rushed into the light of a window.

"Well boys, you're sixteen, happy now?" Anita grunted and sipped her vodka while everyone went wild around her in silent celebration.

I smiled and tasted my own drink, hating the taste but, hey, she was right, I was happy. For the first time I could see how mom drank this stuff. Anyways, I wasn't going to have too much, not like Andre, who was on his fifth glass and nodding lazily for more, slumped up on my shoulder.

"Jus' a teensy weensy bit mo'."He said, glass wobbling in his hand.

"This is a god damned birthday party! What the 'ell are you doing drunk?" Mom said, taking the bottle of vodka and pouring it down her throat. Antonio smiled and crossed his legs, drink still untouched.

"I still don't see how I could be your son and his triplet." He said, leaning back on the creaky wooden chair. Father laughed at this, leaning against the table and spinning a bottle cap. Ella squealed and jumped back from the window.

"Shh, I hear footsteps."Silas hissed. Everyone stopped talking, even Ella. We listened, nine pairs of green eyes fixed on the window. Slow, steady feet padded against the grass outside and mother pulled Ella into the shadows.

We shrank against the walls, hiding behind couches and boxes in our own house. Through a space between two crates I caught a glimpse of a slightly deranged face. With red hair and bulging eyes that peered into the cracked window, Mrs. Herring made my heart stutter. I'd never seen someone with that strange, animal look to them. It seemed like she would open her thin mouth and bite your head off, chewing slowly if she wanted.

"Hello?" She called sweetly from behind the glass. "Is anyone there?"

Ella sat as still as a stone beside me. In her short life of five years nothing had scared her quite as much as Mrs. Herring.

We waited for what seemed like the longest time, Mrs. Herring smiling pleasantly and looking into the opaque darkness, but finally she wobbled away.

"Does anyone else wish she'd just move to the battle field and get herself blown up?" Silas asked.

"She isn't the only one who's suspicious of us." I said, though I couldn't deny that it would be nice.

"Yeah, but she's the only one who's mad."

"What if someone did find out?" Ella asked. No one answered for moment, trying to word it in a friendly way.

"We'd have to run." Father said kindly.

"But I like Chicago!" She said. I did too.

"If we did have to run it would be for a good reason, Ella." Lisa said quietly.

"Yeah, they'd have all our heads, wouldn't they?" Anita pitched in.

I rolled my eyes and sat back down at the table. Father followed, twisting a dark brown hand around his glass.

"Well, _masters_, I shall go to my servant quarters now to rest." Silas said, grinning and bowing dramatically. He turned and left up the wooden stairs. The rest of the family followed and I watched them leave. Mom, Ella and my triplets, Antonio and Andre were all pale in the moonlight but Silas and Lisa were the same coffee brown as dad. Anita had gotten the mix and so we said she was adopted from Mexico to grow up working at the Masen Manor.

In daylight my father was a lawyer who was constantly abroad in his work. But behind the walls of our home we were family, Mr. Masen didn't exist except for in jokes.

"I expect that Anita will try to label you three when you get those tattoos." Father said. "Are you sure you want one? You do realize it'll never come off. Ever."

"Yes, but this is an important time with the war going on and everything. It just seems right." I said, smiling to myself. I looked at the grand piano in the corner of the room.

"Not tonight, Eduardo. If Mrs. Herring comes back I think I might blow her up myself."

I laughed, "You wouldn't even if you could!"

"Of course not." He said, sipping his vodka and spitting it back out. "I'm sure she isn't thatbad once you get to know her. Maybe a little lunatic, but no one's perfect.

I chuckled, put my glass on the table, got up, and said goodnight to my father. Then I tip toe up to my room and flopped onto my bed. Andre and Antonio were already sleeping.

I dreamt of a train of a train skimming across the sea, on it's way to Europe.


End file.
